


Impressions.

by scrantonstrangler



Series: Expiration Dates. [1]
Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Warning: It's Gonna Be Sad., What if Jim married Karen?, What if Pam married Roy?, What if they still couldn't stay away from each other?, basically a what-if scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:12:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrantonstrangler/pseuds/scrantonstrangler
Summary: Jim gets hired as a salesman at Dunder Mifflin. Shenanigans ensue and maybe he falls a little in love with the receptionist.





	Impressions.

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this work will be a series of days before the events of the TV show, in which Pam and Jim establish their friendship. Later installments will be either similar slice-of-life moments throughout the events of the documentary filming or "episodes" of my own design which focus on Jim and Pam. Later, the plot will diverge from canon. Forgive me; for the time being I have no beta readers, and I'm not entirely sure of my specific format yet. Work with me a bit and I hope you enjoy! Feel free to point out any mistakes you see! However, there are a lot of discrepancies in the show about when people were hired, so I'm going with Pam being hired in 2000 and Jim in 2001 since it's mentioned that Pam showed Jim to his desk and her line to him is so cute. I'll do my best to mention each discrepancy I notice and let you guys know which version I'm choosing (if anyone even cares or reads this lmao). Sorry for the Wall o' Text!

“Jaaaaaaaaames Halpert!” He hasn’t even made it entirely in the door before Michael is in his face, hand extended, mouth drawn into a smile that looks like it’s making an attempt at zany. It comes off a little more psychotic. Next is the British accent. “Halpert. James Halpert. Double-o… Uh, good morning, my good sir.”

“Jim, remember? You can just call me Jim. It won’t offend me.” He extends his hand and Michael takes it, one part grateful, one part still trying to figure out a secret-agent number. It’s going to be a long day. He should’ve had more coffee this morning. Too bad Mark used all the grounds.

“Let’s take a tour. A three hour tour, a threeee hourrrr tour!” And now there’s singing, and Jim thinks he might have stepped into the Twilight Zone, because Michael had seemed somewhat normal during their interview. He removes his coat, hangs it on the rack, and rolls up his sleeves, assuming the position of lowly junior salesman. The desk at reception is empty and Michael decides to begin the tour with the annex, because “Toby’s back there and I want to get the bad part of the tour over with first.”

As it turns out, Toby is a really nice guy. He and Jim chat about the Phillies until Michael interrupts them by saying there’s a whole office to see and Toby shouldn’t suck the life out of Jim before he even starts his day. Waving, apologetic, Jim follows his new boss through the kitchen, during which time Michael makes sure to point out the bathrooms like a flight attendant, laughing raucously at his own jokes. They reach the bull pen, where Stanley is introduced and responds with a noncommittal grunt, which seems to perfectly suit the bored expression on his face. 

“And moolah!” Michael exclaims, arms held toward the receptionist’s desk, and Jim thinks he meant to say voila, but who knows. “Reception. This is Pam. Pam! Pam! Pam! Ha-ha, no, really, this is Pam, the greatest receptionist in the greater Scranton area. Or at least the best we could find. Hey-o! Anyway, Pam, this is Jim. Jimbo.” Pam smiles at him, pained, scratching at her eyebrow absentmindedly.

Her hair is a little frizzy and her shirt is buttoned wrong. There’s some ink smudged across her forehead. Jim takes a jelly bean from the candy bowl on the desk to keep from telling her how beautiful she is.

“There’s a call for you on line one, Michael,” she says, and her voice is soft and Jim thinks maybe she’s actually the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. 

“Okay, Pam, I’ll do as you say, Pam. She’s all business, this one. Uh – show Jim to his desk, wouldja, drill sergeant?” As Michael recedes into his office, Pam looks at him, and they share an eye-roll. She stands, gestures toward the empty desk (which blessedly has its back facing Michael’s office), and begins to walk around toward him.

“Enjoy this moment,” she’s saying, before he reaches his seat. He looks up quizzically, focused on the streak of blue across her skin, watching the way the overactive heater blows her hair around her face. “Because you’re never going to go back to this time before you met your desk-mate, Dwight.” 

As if on cue, the larger-than-life Dwight marches through the door, and the moment is ruined, and by the time Jim is done shaking one beet-stained hand, Pam is on the phone.

***************************

“I mean I, for one, am really impressed with the lyrical prowess of ‘Beers in Heaven.’” He’s eaten something like a thousand jelly beans since his first day, and he doesn’t even like jelly beans. They’ve begun to taste like nothing. Which is probably because his teeth are rotting out. “Michael really knows his song parodies.”

“At least he didn’t bring the fat suit in. Michael Klump still hasn’t been in public, and I think we should all be grateful.” Jim laughs heartily, scuffing his shoe on the floor to avoid maintaining eye contact for too long, because he knows that he’s one too-long look away from spilling his guts. For now Pam seems oblivious enough. She’d even missed his complete devastation in the instant after mentioning her boyfriend, which he’d had to swallow and save to process later. At least their first Dundies had come as a welcome distraction from all his… distraction. 

“Yeah, well, I think I might rather have Michael Klump than Ping,” he points out, and basks in the laughter she gives in return. 

It’s the little things.

***************************

Kelly’s shriek is enough to draw Dwight out of his chair, knife in hand, and Jim is far more alarmed at the rapidity with which his desk-mate had been able to draw the blade from its ankle holster. Eventually Jim manages to look toward the source of the commotion, which is centered around reception, and he’s perking up at yet another excuse to head in Pam’s general direction.

“It’s so pretty. So pretty! I’m so jealous, I hate you, I mean of course I don’t hate you but I hate you!” Kelly is gushing, and she’s holding Pam’s hand in hers, and Jim stops mid-stride with his hands in his pockets because he knows. His heart punches through his ribcage and flings itself through the floor. He hopes the warehouse guys can find somewhere far away to send it. There’s a word he’s trying to say, maybe it’s congratulations, but he chokes on it and suddenly has a pressing urge to visit the annex. The light is too bright in there anyway. 

***************************

“This might sound weird.” She looks up from the foil lid she’s been picking at for the last few minutes, giving him the absentminded smile that breaks his heart a little every time he sees it. “But that mixed berry yogurt you’re about to eat has expired.”

She giggles, and everything’s okay, at least for now. At least for now.

***************************

“I just don’t get it. He doesn’t even seem interested. I mean I realize that probably most guys don’t care about what time of year their wedding is, but like, don’t you think he should at least help me a little?” It’s just venting, and of course Pam doesn’t realize that her wedding with Roy is maybe the last thing Jim wants to talk about. 

“Yeah.” He’s nodding, vague, poking his fork repeatedly into a tomato until it ceases to have any shape. Strangely enough, his appetite has vanished, and the break room seems small and warm and he wishes he could figure out an excuse to leave. But he stays. They’re friends; this is what friends do.

“I could understand if it was something like… The way the napkins are folded? You know? But this is the date. It’s kind of important! What if I pick a fall wedding and he ends up hating it but just doesn’t want to tell me?” Her voice sounds frustrated, and Jim has her expressions mapped out enough to know that her eyebrows are pulled together with that little wrinkle between them, her lips are curved down at the corners, and her bottom lip is pushed out into a bit of a pout. He doesn’t even have to look up. Pathetic.

“Yeah.” 

Pathetic.

***************************

She’s sitting on the edge of his desk, giggling as he places crayons in the precise places where Dwight’s writing utensils used to lie. Here’s one lying along the break in his keyboard; here’s one caddy-corner across a piece of paper Dwight had abandoned mid-signature when he’d noticed that Stanley was taking too long on his lunch break. 

“I feel kinda bad,” she whispers, but she’s still smiling as he artfully arranges six crayons in the cup on the desk. 

“You wouldn’t if you had to sit by him,” Jim replies, winking at a smiling Phyllis. “He’s drafting a letter to corporate to require us all to wear earth tones only. Notice there’s not a single earth tone in this magnificent assortment of crayons.”

“How much did you spend on those?” Laughing, Pam covers her mouth with one hand, and he wonders why she does that, if Roy has pointed out the two slightly crooked teeth she has. It makes him angry that hypothetical Roy would hypothetically think that her flaws are anything but endearing. Jim crosses his arms over his chest, challenging her with a grin, leaning back in his squeaky chair.

“I stole them from my neighbor’s kid. She’s really too young to use them anyway. One must color responsibly, Pamela.” She swats his shoulder and he thinks maybe he’s never been happier, but her gaze shifts and suddenly her giggles aren’t directed toward Jim. Turning, he’s accosted by the sight of Roy, who saunters toward them with a goofy grin on his face and a single flower clutched in his hand. It’s probably a weed from the parking lot, but Pam accepts it lovingly, pecking him on the cheek and jumping to the floor.

At that moment, Dwight returns from the bathroom and spies the crayons. His lips thin; he adjusts his tie in agitation, turns away from Jim, and shouts.

“Michael! Jim put his things in my stuff!”

The office door swings open and Michael emerges, triumphant.

“That’s what she said!”

***************************

If there’s any small consolation, it’s that there still haven’t been any wedding bells. Jim feels sorry for Pam on one level; to go almost three years with a fiancé who won’t even commit to a date must be not only upsetting, but humiliating. He only has a small pang of guilt when he realizes that every day without a wedding invitation makes him feel better.

But she looks sad. He can’t have that.

“I have a project for you,” he murmurs, plucking a piece of candy from the jar on her desk. He must have eaten all the jelly beans, because these are chocolate, which is a nice change from the faux-fruit taste and plasticine texture of their predecessors. She looks up, intrigued, which is a welcome change from the small frown that’s lived on her mouth for a couple weeks when she thinks no one’s looking. “It’s really important. I gotta know that you can handle it.”

“Hmm… I guess that depends on what it is.” Now there’s a smile, and she’s leaning in, and if he didn’t know better he’d say she’s flirting. 

“I need you to… ooh, what is this?” He breaks off, snatches the paper from her hand before she can hide it. The paper is covered in flowers, sketched in pencil and colored in with the new highlighters he’d given her last week when their latest Dwight prank had misfired and ended in them giggling, covered in neon yellow. When he looks up, she’s blushing, red suffusing the freckled skin of her face and sending his heart into an irregular rhythm. “Pam. These are amazing!”

“No! They’re just – give them back, they’re sketches, I’m embarrassed!” No matter how hard she grabs for the picture, Jim keeps it away, admiring it from several different directions as he beams at her. 

“Beesly! These deserve framing. These deserve an art gallery!” 

She’s bright red but she’s grinning so wide he can see the spinach in her molars, and his goal is achieved, and he feels better.

***************************

At Poor Richard’s, the lights are low and it smells like old beer and cigarettes, but all he can think about is the way Pam’s hand feels clutched around his arm as she tries to spin on her barstool. 

“Give it up,” he’s yelling, his voice hoarse and faint over the sound of Hotel California blaring in the background. Her laughter is loud, vibrant, like he’s never heard it before, and he’ll probably dream about it like some kind of stalker. 

***************************

“Hey,” she whispers, leaning into him as Michael tries to make his conference room meeting interesting. It’s a welcome distraction. Not that Pam isn’t always a welcome distraction. “Did you hear about the thing?”

“Gonna have to be more specific. Are you talking about Creed’s thing? Because if so, that’s just gross.”

“No, weirdo,” she giggles, breathless as she tries to lower her voice. “They’re making a documentary about us. This film company is gonna come in and tape us every day. Isn’t that weird? Dunder Mifflin is like the most boring place ever. Why would anyone want a documentary about people who sell paper?”

“I have no idea.”


End file.
